Traitor in the Midst
by Snotwing
Summary: It all started with Ellie Bartowski's conscience. Casey is tired of being reminded of his weakness - or weaknesses, but Ellie isn't about to let the issue rest. Nevermatter that Casey has been hit with a lot worse than a frying pan. Tag to S3. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hey guys! So, this is my first Chuck fic. This is a tag to _Chuck vs. the Ring, Part 2_ – I couldn't help but noticing that Casey's facial bruising was markedly less prominent during that scene near the end where the whole gang got together for dinner than it had been when the BuyMore burst into glorious flames. That makes me think that maybe there were a few days between the two events. Here's what I think may have happened in that time – and what I think Ellie may have felt in regards to our favorite grunt after the frying pan incident.

"Oh, John, I'm so sorry."

Casey huffed out a breath in irritation.

Damn Bartowskies were so similar – and predictable.

"I didn't mean to – I mean, I really thought you were…" Ellie unthinkingly reached out towards the 'colorful' side of his face, her mouth turned down in regret. "Does it hurt?"

_Bartowskies!_

The Colonel growled, and looked out the widow, past Ellie.

"John…"

He sighed.

Why did _he_ have to come get Ellie and Awesome?

Why wasn't Bartowski – the _other_ Bartowski – here?

Well, he knew why – even with the Governor, Chuck still had a massive headache. Casey wasn't about to trust him to drive.

Walker either – _she_ was supervising the cleanup crew and handling mission reports and other… _necessary_…pencil pushing and paper shuffling.

So he'd volunteered to drive four and a half hours to some unimportant suburban town in Southern California to pick up Ellie and Devon.

He'd arrived four minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago and already he was beyond annoyed.

Devon was still in the hotel room, 'gathering' their belongings, leaving him and Bartowski's sister waiting in the car.

And Ellie was trying to _apologize_.

For hitting him with a frying pan.

Because she believed his was a _traitor_ to his country.

Though, technically he was – had been. He had been willing to hand over a very highly classified, dangerous, and experimental drug that would allow soldiers to operate without feeling fear, remorse, pain, or any other pesky emotions – he had been willing to hand this over to a _terrorist_ organization that he had _personally_ spent nearly a decade of his life combating.

And that he was out to kill her baby brother.

Well – he could understand that last part. Except, of course, for the part where she assumed that he was so incompetent as to _still_ be trying after three years. Had she forgotten her brother's klutziness? Or did she really think he was that stupid?

He didn't know which offense irked him the most.

…

Yes he did.

How could she believe he would betray his country?

A country he had given _everything_ to protect – even if he was willing to betray it in the end. He had still sacrificed so much for his country. He still would. He would give anything – except the few things that, to him, _were_ his country.

Even if she couldn't know that, surely she could _sense_ his patriotism after three years of neighborly conversations and holiday gatherings.

And now, to top it off, she wanted to know if _it_ hurt.

Yes!

Yes, it hurt that his neighbor of three years believed him capable of treason.

Yes, it hurt that someone could believe he would _kill_ Bartowski – after all they'd been through.

And, _yes_, his damn face _hurt._

He glared at her. Knowing she had only meant that last he tried to communicate with his eyes and an expertly articulated grunt – "And you call yourself a doctor? Moron."

He thought he succeeded fairly well.

She opened her mouth again –

And Casey had never been so glad to see 'Captain Awesome'.

Ellie sighed before turning to her husband – asking about something inane like socks or toothpaste.

Casey focused on the sigh – the important piece of communication.

See, he knew that sigh. He had heard it from Chuck on many occasions.

It meant that the conversation was not over.

Great.

**ooo oo ooo oo ooo oo ooo**

Two and a half hours after Casey had arrived to drive them home, Devon was sleeping like the dead in the back seat.

And John – well, if a dead man could drive, he was driving like one.

His eyes scanned the traffic attentively but, although she knew he must be making course corrections, he seemed motionless otherwise. He hadn't made a peep since that last grunt before pulling away from the hotel.

Biting her lip she looked over at the silent driver – wincing once more at the spectacular bruising he was sporting, courtesy of three years of high school softball and her largest iron skillet.

She had hit a man – with the intent to cause a whole lot of damage – with a pan she used for fried bread and large batches of Devon's favorite snack – fried banana chips.

And she felt awful. She would never be able to look at that frying pan the same way again.

It was justified – hitting her reclusive neighbor after catching him sneaking around in her and Devon's apartment.

He had _guns_.

And Justin said he was bad.

A double agent.

He was going to hurt her brother.

And maybe Devon.

Ellie knew, in her head, that Justin was lying, that _he_ was bad. Chuck had told her.

He told her that Casey was a good guy. Devon had backed him up – even Morgan had defended the larger man.

But she just couldn't – she didn't feel safe.

She wanted to wake Devon up, so she wasn't alone with this man that she'd hit with a frying pan.

She wanted this same man to forgive her – to absolve her of her sin, so she didn't have to feel guilty.

Before she had a chance to give in to either temptation – coughing loudly or apologizing again – John's cell phone rang.

Without taking his eyes off the road, he answered it.

"Casey."

There was a pause.

"They're both fine."

There was another, longer pause, and Ellie caught herself smiling, even as John's frown deepened. He could only be talking – er, listening to – her very worried (but safe and _alive_) baby brother.

"Enough Bartowski" he barked, confirming Ellie's suspicion. "We'll be back soon – you can ask her then."

John pulled the phone away from his ear a bit and she could hear a tinny, squeaky voice from the speaker.

"No! I'm not going to ask her that."

Ellie heard Devon stirring in the backseat. Apparently John noticed too – his eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Lowering his voice, he continued.

"I'm sure she'll manage to hold it together for another hour and sixteen minutes, Bartowski."

Another pause – her brother was probably still protesting. She couldn't possibly be _fine_ – with this man.

"I'm always nice, Bartowski. No, I'm not mad. Yes, I understand. No, I'm _not_ going to talk to her about it." Ellie blinked. Four complete sentences. That's more than he'd said all night. More than he usually said, even. "_And_ I'm not answering this phone again. One hour, fourteen minutes."

With that he hung up, glaring at her briefly for good measure.

Clearing her throat, she decided to ignore the glare.

"That was Chuck?" she asked quietly. She decided not to wake Devon after all.

At first, she thought he wasn't going to answer. He'd been doing that a lot tonight. She stared out the window – at least Chuck was thinking of her. After a few minutes, however, he surprised her.

"He's worried about you."

The statement was even – almost without inflection.

"Yeah – he does that."

_We both do that_, she thought. _We're all we have left – now that Dad's..._

No.

No.

No no no.

She was not going down that path – not again, not tonight.

Blinking back her tears, she missed the sympathetic expression that crossed Casey's face before he shuttered it away.

"Your dad cared, too."

Again, no emotion.

Chuck may care, and her dad may have cared.

Devon cared and Morgan cared. Even Sarah probably cared.

But not this man – he would never care about anything. Didn't he have a daughter that no one knew about? He was emotionless, cold. A killer. No matter what Chuck and Devon and Morgan said – she could never trust this man.

He had guns and a temper and he was as big as a house. And he lied to her – so well. She knew that he had something to do with Chuck's lies, and Devon's… and even Morgan's. She wouldn't _ever_ trust him, because now she knew. She knew about his guns, about his lies, about things he must've done – things he must've taught her brother how to do.

Suddenly she didn't feel as bad about the frying pan incident.

"Yeah, I know," she replied. And then, without meaning to, she spat, "Did anyone ever care about you?"

She didn't mean it – she didn't mean to say it.

She was looking out the window, so she didn't see his flinch.

And she didn't notice that Devon had his eyes open.

**ooo oo ooo oo ooo oo ooo**

"_Did anyone ever care about you?"_

Yes.

He didn't deserve it, but yes.

Feelings, emotions welled to the surface of his mind, but he pushed them back – ruthlessly, relentlessly.

Just like he had done so many, _many_ times before.

A small movement caught his eye and he glanced up to the rearview mirror.

Woodcomb was awake – wonderful.

He made eye contact for the briefest instant – shook his head.

Ellie didn't need to know her husband had heard that last. Casey could tell she regretted it – she regretted saying it.

And he – John Casey, once Alex Coburn – had been cut worse, wounded when he was more undeserving.

Ellie gasped – she was trying not to cry.

He sighed.

One hour, nine minutes.

If he went five miles an hour over the speed limit, he could cut that down to one hour, one minute.

If he went ten over, it would be fifty-two minutes.

Fifteen – forty-four minutes.

If there ever was a situation that necessitated speeding, it would be this one.

He hit the accelerator.

**ooo oo ooo oo ooo oo ooo**

Thirty seven minutes later, Casey pulled his beloved Crown Vic into _the_ apartment complex.

Ellie had stopped sniffling – thank goodness – and Devon had finally announced his wakefulness with a pathetically fake yawn-stretch combo.

Casey had only grunted – Ellie, however, had poured on the false cheer like too thick gravy.

It had lasted seven minutes before blessed silence was regained.

Without wasting any time, or breath, Casey pulled the keys from the ignition, unlocked the doors, and popped the trunk. Without speaking, he hefted all four of his passengers' travel bags. He started off towards the Woodcombs' apartment without looking back – he didn't have to see them to know they were following him.

He opened the apartment with a key Ellie didn't know he had and Devon hadn't been happy about. He was less than surprised to find Bartowski stretched out on the couch. Sarah was napping in a near-by arm chair.

He _was_ surprised not to find the two of them curled up together – but, whatever it was, they'd work it out. Or someone else would butt in and do it for them – his money was on Grimes.

He turned to find Ellie staring, misty eyed, at her brother. Woodcomb was behind her, leaning in the doorway and smiling softly.

"Well, Babe, we made it home," he announced softly. Looking up at Casey, he smiled. "And thanks for driving us, John. You want something to drink?"

Without waiting for a response, he gently pushed past his wife – still gawking and teary eyed – and head toward the kitchen. His eyes very clearly said "Follow me – I have something more to say to you."

Casey bit back a frustrated grunt. Dropping his burdens behind the couch, he followed the younger man out of the room.

Woodcomb was resting against the counter, two beers in hand, when he entered. Casey glared suspiciously at the alcohol.

He doubted this was going to be pleasant.

"John, I just wanted to thank you – for looking out for Ellie."

He was right.

First an apology and now _gratitude._

Woodcomb had been around too many Bartowskies for too long.

**ooo oo ooo oo ooo oo ooo**

"_John, I just wanted to thank you – for looking out for Ellie."_

Reaching out toward Chuck, Ellie paused. They were in the kitchen, but she could hear them well enough.

_Looking out for me?_ She thought incredulously. Following her around and breaking into her apartment counted as 'looking out for her'? Since when?

Retracting her arm, she frowned, listening for a response.

Casey grunted. She nearly fainted in shock – not.

"Now, dude, I really mean it." That was her husband – being sweet and grateful and polite – one of the many reasons she loved him so much. But tonight she wished he would just – stop. "I know you didn't have to. But I'm glad you did."

"Didn't do it for you."

This time she _was_ surprised. A whole sentence – good for him.

"I know – you did it because Chuck asked you to."

_What?_

"But, you see, she's my wife – and I care about her too. So thank you."

Grumbling. Ellie wondered why Casey didn't just storm out – he was certainly acting childishly enough.

"I mean it, bro. I can see what she did to you with that frying pan" Ellie mentally pictured a sympathetic wince from Devon and a scowl from Casey. "and I know that had to hurt. I know that you could have easily stopped her, but you didn't. Because you didn't want to hurt her. So, thank you."

"Didn't help in the long run."

Ellie blinked in surprise. That wasn't what she had expected to hear.

"Now, bro, you can't blame yourself for that – all that matters is that Ellie stayed safe. And I know you did your best to protect her. Thank you."

More grumbling.

"John, thank-"

"You're welcome!"

"See?" Ellie could _hear_ Devon's huge smile. There was a sound of flesh meeting flesh – Devon's hand, John's shoulder, she was sure. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"I was just-"

"No." Mentally, Ellie pictured Devon holding up his hand to forestall whatever Casey meant to say. "You already said it – you don't get to take it back. I'm not listening to any excuse about you just doing your job or trying to keep Chuck focused on the job. Now, finish your beer and go get some rest – you look like you need it."

Ellie smiled – that was _her_ husband. Even if he was being… him … to _John_ _Casey_ of all people.

"He does really have a way with him."

Ellie started.

"Excuse me?"

Sarah uncurled slowly, blinking sleep out of her eyes.

"Devon, he has a way with Casey – persistent and unthreatening." She smiled thoughtfully. "Casey has really relaxed quite a lot since he was first assigned to Chuck. I think you and Devon – and Chuck of course – had something to do with that."

"Wha- sis?"

Ellie was saved from responding – what could she really say to that? Besides, of course, 'What do you mean _relaxed_?'

"Yeah, Chuck, I'm here."

And then, all thoughts – concerns – about John Casey went out the proverbial window.

Her little brother was okay – he was going to be okay.

**A/N: **Okay, so that went in a slightly different direction than I had originally planned. Hopefully I can still get it finished in only three or four more chapters... but these things have a habit of blowing up on me. Nonetheless, thanks for reading and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Ellie, watcha doing?"

Morgan.

Great.

Ellie sighed, turning away from her current task – which just so happened to be Casey-watching. It didn't matter that Chuck had actually _asked_ him to follow her around – she still didn't trust him.

"Nothing, Morgan. What do you want?" Ellie tried not to sigh exasperatedly as she backed away from the kitchen window. She immediately noticed his copiously bandaged hands – when had that happened?

"Nothing. Nothing? I don't believe you were doing _nothing_." Chuck's short friend went over to the window and peeked through the curtains. "What – Ellie, were you watching Casey's apartment? Were you _spying_ on him?"

"No, I don't know. Morgan…" Ellie whined, wishing he would just go away.

So she could go back to Casey-watching.

"You're not still worried about him being, you know…" Morgan leaned toward her and lowered his voice, "a traitor, are you?" He straightened before resuming loudly, "Because I can assure you that John Casey would never do anything like that. He's given everything in service of this great country. And Chuck – well I don't know how many times he's saved Chuck. He even stepped in when this old lady started hitting Chuck because he couldn't revive her i-phone. It looked like it had been put through the blender. Why, I would trust John Casey with my life, even though he likes the original _Planet of the Apes._ I would trust him with Chuck's life. And you – your life too. Why, I would even-"

"I get it, Morgan," Ellie interrupted. "You trust John Casey. But just because he hasn't done anything … traitor-ish yet, doesn't mean he won't. He has guns, Morgan, and he's so angry, all the time! How can you _trust_ him?"

"Ellie, listen to me. Listen to me very closely. John Casey would never betray his country – at least, not for something pithy, like money or power or spite. And yes, he has guns. A _lot_ of guns, but I am so very glad that he does, because he has saved me and Chuck – mostly Chuck – many times with those guns. And, yes, he does seem to be angry a good portion of the time – but that isn't all there is to him. And if you can't see that by now, then maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you aren't perfect."

Ellie was shocked – Morgan, _Morgan Grimes_ just accused her of not being perfect.

He had worshipped her since like forever. And now he says she's not perfect – all because she doesn't trust John Casey?

She watched as Morgan walked away, shaking his head sadly. Ellie was still staring sightlessly after him when her brother bounced in a few minutes later.

He seemed to immediately sense that something was wrong.

"Heya, Sis. What's up?"

"Morgan…" Ellie blinked sight back into her eyes, "Morgan just told me I'm not perfect."

"Morgan-Morgan? Our Morgan? Are you sure?" He sounded as shocked as she felt.

Ellie nodded.

"Ouch." He winced for her.

"I know – I mean we were just talking…" She trailed off, not wanting to start _that_ conversation again. Especially not with Chuck. She couldn't fathom it, but for some reason, he seemed to really look up to Casey.

But her silence availed her nothing.

Chuck gave her the knowing look that she hated. She knew she wasn't going to like what he was going to say next.

"You're not still going on about not being able to trust Casey, are you?"

See? She didn't like it.

"I don't really want to talk about it!"

"Aww… c'mon Ellie! Casey would never hurt any of us! He's gone against orders any number of times just to get me or Sarah or me _and_ Sarah out of trouble."

"See, see!" Ellie spun around from the sink, poking an index finger into Chuck's chest. "If he's gone against orders before, what makes you think he won't do it again?"

"Well, he might." Chuck grinned. "In fact, I hope he does, if ever Sarah or I need rescuing again."

"Chuck – you promised! No more spying!"

"And I meant it – I really did!"

"But?"

"No buts!" Ellie eyed him suspiciously. "I mean it!"

Somehow, she couldn't quite believe him. After all, he'd been lying to her about being a spy for three years. What's to say he wouldn't do it again? Before – before she wouldn't ever think anything of the sort about Chuck. He kept he promises.

But now – now she wasn't so sure. She felt like she didn't know him anymore.

"I'm serious, Sis. No more spying. But you have to promise me that you'll try to work things out with Casey."

She stared at him stonily. There was no way she was going to do that.

"Look, Ellie…" Chuck sighed. "You remember your wedding?"

"My wedding?" She nearly spluttered. _Of course she- _"Of course I _remember my wedding_! But what does that have to do with-"

"Just listen to me, okay?" Chuck sighed again, this time running his hand through his hair. He muttered something that sounded vaguely like 'Casey's going to kill me'. Her frown deepened. "After your first wedding… fell through – you had your second wedding. Your dream wedding."

"Yeah – I remember! I thought that was you – what does it-"

"Sis!" He stared her into silence. "It was me – sort of. I mean, I paid for it."

"You paid for it." She echoed. "With your spy money." She accused with a hard expression.

"Yes, I paid for it with my spy money. But that's not the point."

"Then what is the point? What's the point, Chuck? That I should trust John Casey because he attended my wedding?"

"No! You should trust him because he _planned_ your wedding!"

Ellie blinked, stupefied.

That was a lie, surely.

John wouldn't…

"Look, Casey had been reassigned – promoted and sent back to lead his old team of super special op marines. But I – I was in trouble." Ellie knew he was deliberately glossing over the details, but she didn't say anything. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the details. "Bad guys – bad guys with guns – showed up. That wanted to hurt me and you and everyone. But I called Casey and he turned his heavily armed aircraft around – because I asked him to. He was just in time – and he, Sarah, and I – and his marines, saved the day."

"But ruined my wedding." Her tone wasn't quite accusatory.

"And I am so very sorry about that, Sis." He truly looked contrite. "But, after that, he didn't leave right away. And I asked him for a favor."

"To plan my wedding." She said this flatly – still half disbelieving him.

"Yeah, sort of. Yes. He ordered his marines to help. It turned out rather nice, don'tcha think?"

"Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he?" That was a straight up challenge. "Why would he even _consider_ doing something like that?"

"Well" Chuck squinted his eyes and stretched his neck forward, in that peculiar manner of his "Casey kind of made me promise that I wouldn't _ever_ tell a single soul. And, I guess he kind of thought that it was kind of unprofessional, at the time. But he thought you deserved it – your dream wedding. And maybe he did it for me, too – I don't know. I never asked him. I was just happy that he agreed."

"What – why…"

Ellie didn't know what to say or what to think. In the last few days her life had been completely turned upside down. Now she felt it tilting dangerously again.

But she just couldn't deal with it – not again, not so soon.

"Sis, just give him a chance, okay?"

Wanting the conversation to be over, she nodded jerkily.

Maybe she meant it – maybe she would talk to John Casey.

Maybe she would ask him to give her a reason to trust him – even though she didn't really want one.

Her life had just been turned upside down – everything she thought she knew now came with some sort of 'secret'. John Casey was there, was untrustworthy – she _knew_ this.

Traitor – that's what Justin had said.

Never mind that Justin was the bad guy – she felt so much safer with Justin than she ever had with Casey. She'd _bonded_ with Justin.

Casey had stalked her.

But maybe she could get over that.

Eventually.

**ooo oo ooo oo ooo oo ooo**

Ellie was alone.

She closed her eyes and forced herself not to think about _anything_ as she flowed into a forward bend, stretching out into downward facing dog.

Or, rather, she _tried_ forcing herself not to think.

It wasn't working so well.

She sighed and collapsed wearily onto her soft, recently shampooed carpet.

She had spent most of the last two days cleaning – Devon and Chuck had both insisted she take off from work – when she wasn't cooking or interrogating her brother and husband. Morgan refused to talk to her about anything spy related – he was still pissed about catching her _spying_ on John Casey.

Exhausted and restless and _desperate_, she had finally sent Devon _away_ to the store. She knew that attempting her normal yoga routine – something that usually relaxed and invigorated her – would be fruitless, but she had to try anyway.

Surprisingly, though, she wasn't thinking about all the lies she'd been told. She wasn't thinking about how Chuck had been putting himself into dangerous situations for the past three years without even _hinting_ about it. She wasn't thinking about Devon keeping it from her, or about Sarah stringing her brother along for so long. She didn't even care that _Morgan_ hadn't let something slip.

She really wasn't thinking about how she couldn't have _known_.

She _was_ thinking about John Casey.

Ellie hated not feeling safe.

She _hated_ it.

And, what's more, she was fairly sure that she really didn't have any reason to still distrust Casey.

Chuck and Morgan and Sarah and Devon – they all defended Casey with not just passionate words, but their actions.

They felt completely safe around him – safer, even, than when he wasn't there.

Taking a deep breath, Ellie attempted to center herself.

She knew what she had to do.

**ooo oo ooo oo ooo oo ooo**

Five minutes later, she marched resolutely across the courtyard towards John's apartment. She was determined to take this bull by the horns.

"John!" She called, almost banging on the door. She had only meant to _knock_ politely – she winced as she discerned the desperation in her voice. She really hadn't meant to give that much away.

In retrospect, she probably should have expected what happened next.

Or at least _anticipated_ the possibility.

The door opened almost immediately to reveal her scowling neighbor.

Shirtless.

And armed.

Ellie blinked twice – then she screamed. He was pointing a gun at - ?

One instant she had been staring at a very threatening Colonel John Casey, and the next she was behind him, in his apartment.

He lingered in the doorway for a moment, gun still drawn, before he shut the door and turned to face her.

"What's wrong? You okay?"

"I'm fine." Ellie knew she was shaking, but she wasn't about to acknowledge it. "Could you…" She gestured towards his bare chest – which she belatedly realized was covered with several painful looking bruises.

And scars.

Briefly he glanced down, grunted, and snatched a black t-shirt from the back of a large, fluffy arm chair.

Ellie ignored the slight difficulty he had in pulling the shirt on – she was a doctor, she knew what those bruises meant, how painful each would be, and how long it would likely take him to recover.

Likewise, she knew what the scars meant.

But she was going to ignore that, too.

Finished, he turned back to her and stood, expectant.

Gun – the gun… Ellie didn't know what happened to it, but it wasn't visible anymore. She glanced around the sparse apartment – neither was there any sign of the many, _many_ guns she had seen nearly a week ago.

When she failed to speak, after a few moments, the large man shifted and grumbled.

"You want something to drink?"

"No." No, she didn't. Not here.

"Ellie." She snapped her eyes back to his face. Was his voice…gentle? "Why are you here?"

"Chuck said…" What had Chuck said? Was she really going to ask about this? Did she really want to know? "Chuck said you helped plan my wedding."

"Chuck _said_ that, did he?" The scowl was back. He muttered – something along the lines of 'I'm gonna kill him', echoing Chuck's same sentiment. Then, louder, he addressed her again. "Now, just why would Chuck go and say something like that?"

"I don't _know_," Ellie wailed. It didn't make any _sense_.

Nothing did anymore.

**ooo oo ooo oo ooo oo ooo**

**A/N:** Ahh... the confrontation. More to come... maybe. Thanks for reading, and please review.


	3. Chapter 3

Casey tried not to glare at Bartowski's sister.

He knew this was coming. Expected it, really. Problem was, he still didn't have a plan of action. He had _never_ been very good at the whole comforting-reassuring routine.

Maybe he should have taken up Walker's offer to intercede.

But, no, he hadn't.

Argg.

Sighing, he eyed his guest critically.

She looked rather high-strung at the moment, but he didn't think she was about to burst into tears or anything. That didn't change the fact that he needed to think of something – soon.

"Yes."

Ellie startled.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I helped plan your wedding."

"Oh." The young doctor blinked, as if that was something that just wouldn't compute. He really didn't blame her – he never thought he'd do anything of the sort, either. At least, not without orders. "Why?"

Why?

Well, hell.

He didn't like to think about _why_.

He wasn't the kind of guy that went around doing nice things for nice people because he _wanted_ to.

He wasn't the kind of guy that could _afford_ to go around doing nice things for nice people because he _cared_.

No.

NO.

He did NOT _care._

He couldn't afford to. Not him, not a spy.

No personal attachments.

But he knew it was too late – somewhere along the way, Casey had become attached to his team here. And not just his team – not just Walker and Bartowski, and even Grimes – he had come to care for Chuck's family, too. He went soft.

Well, _softer_.

He would _never_ be soft – he hadn't ever been.

"I – " he rubbed his hand over his face – a nervous gesture he normally wouldn't have allowed himself. "I'm sorry I scared you the other night – "

"You didn't answer my question." Ellie interrupted him firmly.

Hells bells, it was a Bartowski with balls. He stared at her, but he already knew that she wasn't going to back down. And he still didn't have an answer for her. He didn't know _how_ to say _why_ he did what he did.

"Why don't you just say what you really want to?" Best defense was offense. "How could your brother trust someone like me with something that important?"

Ellie swallowed.

"I'm not going to prove myself to you, Ellie." He took a predatory step closer to her. He knew, somewhere deep down, that intimidating her wasn't going to help – but she was threatening him. She was threatening his control – as long as he could at least _pretend_ not to care, he could get through. He didn't need more vulnerable spots – Alex and Kathy were enough.

And he was glad to have them, but he didn't want more.

"I've served my country with loyalty for more than twenty years – I don't have to prove myself to you. Not to you, or anyone."

And he _had_ served his country _loyally_ for twenty years – there were only two things he cared about more. But Ellie didn't need to know about that – she didn't need to know about his treasured vulnerabilities.

Ellie blinked, clearly taken aback, but she refused to give ground.

"You don't, do you?" She challenged – something in her eyes hardened. "I should just trust you – by virtue of your association with some super-secret government spy agency…"

His 'guest' trailed of angrily, once more close to tears.

Casey felt a wrenching in his gut – an emotion that was _not_ sympathy. He'd call it – understanding.

He _understood_ where she was coming from. Despite the fact that she hadn't yet said it out loud, he _knew_ what she was thinking.

_Maybe if I'd been less trusting with Justin – maybe if I'd gone to Chuck or Devon – maybe if I'd paid more attention to what was going on around me…_

_I __**could have, should have**__ done more. No one had to die._

He sighed and looked away from Ellie's anger.

Casey understood that her anger and mistrust were really directed at _herself_. He understood very well the emotional turmoil that inevitably followed a badly botched mission or the death of someone close, trusted, or even loved.

But, damnit, she was a _civilian. _He had worked long and hard protecting his country – protecting civilians – not only from actual, physical threats, but also from this emotional hell. He knew he couldn't save everybody from everything, or even most people from most things, but he _could_ go out there, into the thick of the fray, and brave the emotional storm afterward.

And he could do it quietly alone, without spreading knowledge of the monsters that lurked in the dark, just so that _some_ people could be free of _some_ demons.

But everything he gave hadn't been enough for Ellie. She wasn't like Chuck – even if he'd never really had a choice, he _had_ known about the danger, even been ready and willing to face it.

He looked back at the miserable young woman before him.

"Stop it," he commanded, wishing he knew what to say.

**ooo oo ooo oo ooo oo ooo**

"_Stop it."_

Ellie immediately went on the defensive – he had _no_ call to be-

"You can't blame yourself."

Her angry retort lodged in her throat. Before she could work up some kind of response, he continued with an air of doggedness.

"That cree- _Justin_ was very good at his job. And his job included manipulating and lying to people. Getting them to trust him. It wasn't your fault – you couldn't have known."

_What?_

"When it came down to it, you did everything in your power to keep Chuck safe – and he is safe, now. If you, Devon, and Morgan hadn't acted when you did – " He paused, giving the impression that he was having to force himself to continue a very unpleasant admission. "Walker, Chuck, and I might not be here today, if not for you. You can't blame yourself for your father's death."

Ellie stopped breathing.

Devon, Chuck, even Sarah, had all assured her that she hadn't done anything wrong. She had made the best decision, the only decision she was able to, at the time.

But no one had said the words – not like that.

And he looked her straight in the eye when he said it.

Something _eased_ inside her. She couldn't really call it relief – she knew relief. She was a trauma surgeon. She felt relief every time one of her critical patients didn't die. Intense, potent relief.

Then there was the more intimate, encompassing relief she experienced every time Chuck or Devon worked their way out of some funk or difficult situation.

Morgan's leave taking was generally accompanied by a dry, surface sense of relief.

She didn't know what it was – she didn't really care. In the back of her mind, she thought that Casey could probably give a name to this – whatever it was. But she didn't care.

That pressure that had been squeezing her insides continuously, the weight that pressed against her heart without respite was gone.

And she didn't care to understand it.

The colonel suddenly sighed heavily and glanced toward the front door. Ellie glanced backwards, but didn't notice anything unusual. She frowned.

"Bartowski," she jumped, again, as Casey unexpectedly raised his voice, "you gonna stand there all day? Get in here."

Chuck slouched into the apartment, grinning sheepishly.

"Sorry, Buddy. I saw Ellie come over here and thought you might – erm – might want some back-up." He shrugged, half-apologetically, half-determined. Ellie's chest tightened slightly as Chuck turned toward her – openly assessing her condition. It was brotherly protectiveness – expected and appreciated – but she wasn't used to the semi-calculating gleam in her only brother's eyes.

He had changed.

She _had_ been watching, she had _known_ he was changing, but she had never expected _this._

Maybe…

Casey grunted, causing Ellie to twitch nervously for the umpteenth time during her impromptu visit. She resigned herself to fidgeting like a nervous school girl until she could go _home._

"What'd I tell you about that?" Ellie blinked at his tone. It was at once strict and… sensitive, understanding? "It wasn't your fault. None of it." He glared at Chuck, who immediately nodded his agreement.

"Wha – Sis, you're blaming yourself? It wasn't – you didn't –It wall all my –" The former Nerd Herder slumped despondently. "I'm sorry."

Chuck looked like he would've expanded on that sentiment, but Casey growled.

"I thought Walker straightened you out?"

"You two keep tabs on me like that?"

"You bet your ass we do."

"Oh." Chuck blinked, looking slightly stunned. Then, wonder of wonders, he grinned. It was an honest-to-goodness, 100 watt, Chuck Irving Bartowski smile – one of his rare 'I really believe everything is going to be okay' smiles. It was that same smile that convinced Ellie that Sarah was 'The One'. The smile that disappeared for years after their Dad left – Ellie blinked away a sudden moisture in her eyes. Chuck was safe – and now he was _smiling_. "Thanks, Big Guy."

Ellie felt her eyes begin to cross. This was surreal.

How could…

John made Chuck smile – just by being his typical ill-tempered, intimidating self.

But, perhaps more tellingly, he had just admitted – albeit _very _subtly – that he monitored her brother's emotional well being. And cared enough to step in when necessary.

Which is what he had just been doing for her, she realized.

"I hit you with a frying pan," she blurted abruptly.

"What, you want a gold star?" Casey raised an eyebrow. Ellie gaped - that was _not_ what she meant. Chuck made some sort of choking noise that earned him a stinging look from Casey. "You did exactly what you should have in the case of your home being invaded by the enemy." He shrugged.

Her eyes misted and, for the first time, she felt gratitude towards her surly neighbor, but she knew that thanks wouldn't be accepted. And an apology was likely to be taken as an insult rather than, well, an apology.

The emotional aura was thick and sappy inside the small apartment – Ellie is sure that's what explained her brother's next action. Chuck had a proclivity for making stupid, whimsical decisions when he was emotionally compromised.

If she hadn't been in the same position, she may have been able to stop him. By the time she realized what was about to happen – well, there was no time to stop it. Ellie Woodcomb watched in horror as Chuck reached out impulsively to _hug_ a man that reminded her of the _Terminator_ more than anyone she'd met.

Casey easily dodged Chuck's reaching arms, delivered a healthy slap to the back of his asset's head, and proceeded to unceremoniously shove the two siblings out the door.

At the harsh but _predictable _response, Ellie's world finally righted itself.

On the other side of the door, Chuck grinned down at her.

And she grinned back, in the safety of an NSA monitored courtyard.

**End**

**A/N:** Oookay, so, that was both sappy and forced. I hope you enjoyed it though – I'm making a supreme effort to finish some of my long neglected fics. Thanks for reading and please review.


End file.
